


Irrational Numbers

by gilraenstar



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Robot Feels, Sickfic, robotfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-27
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 06:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1377466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilraenstar/pseuds/gilraenstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He doesn’t understand what is going through his circuitry that has altered the way he views the other robot. Where he originally felt a sort of kinsmanship, it has shifted and turned into something Thomas wasn’t aware he had the capability of experiencing.<br/>According to the definition in his mind it’s love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> first fanfic for this fandom, if you could tell me what you think thatd be hella great! also, ive got this posted on my tumblr as well, so if you see it there, thats me!  
> thanks for reading

It would be silly to assume he didn’t know what love is. Thomas has hundreds of thousands of words and definitions saved into his memory; love and all it’s variations is only one of many. This definition however, seems to be one he accesses more often nowadays. It’s as if he believes that his changing ‘feelings’ towards Guy will in turn change the definition.

He doesn’t understand what is going through his circuitry that has altered the way he views the other robot. Where he originally felt a sort of kinsmanship, it has shifted and turned into something Thomas wasn’t aware he had the capability of experiencing.

According to the definition in his mind it’s love.

But again, he doesn’t understand. He isn’t supposed to have feelings, or emotions. He isn’t supposed to grow attached to things, or people. In a way, he’s always been attached to Guy-Man though. They’ve known each since the very first moment their systems booted up, and their coding overlaps and intertwines in more than one way.

A sudden blink of light catches his attention, so he refocuses on what sits across from him.

Guy has taken a seat across from him at the table, a bright red question mark adorning his visor.

Thinking scrolls across Thomas’ visor in answer to Guy’s question.

“I almost thought you had gone into sleep mode,” Guy admits quietly. Something must be affecting his vocoder- it sounds rough and it crackles with feedback.

Thomas shakes his head. “Just reviewing some thought processes.”

Guy flashes a green ‘okay’ at him, but Thomas can sense that he has something to ask.

“Is something wrong?”

Guy-Man is hesitant to answer. “I’m not certain.”

If a robot could feel concern, Thomas is certain this is what it would seem. Just out of curiosity he pulls up the definition for concern, and impassively realizes that ‘concerned’ is the right word to use in this case.

“Have you gotten moisture in your hardware?”

“I don’t believe so.”

Thomas gets up, and Guy follows him out into the recharge room, seeming to understand his intention. He helps to round up all the cables they’ll need for diagnostics.

“My systems have been overheating easily, and my functions have glitched. It may be some sort of motherboard issue.”

“Possibly,” Thomas says simply. He’s very delicate with removing the metal pieces from the back of Guy’s helmet, even though it doesn’t matter. Robots don’t have a nervous system. Maybe Thomas just imagines it, but he swears that Guy shivers at his touch.

They don’t have much in the way of diagnostic equipment, and going out of their way to find someone that could help never made it onto the list of possible fixes. Lately it hasn’t been too reliable, so they simply connect their wiring and sift through the layers and layers of each other’s binary in an attempt to find what is wrong.

Thomas turns around, and now Guy carefully accesses the plugs near the base of his neck.

The rush of information is instant, and the connection feels natural, as if they were meant to be this single entity. He can tell that Guy is thinking something along the same lines. Their thought codes are syncing together.

It doesn’t take long for Thomas to unbury the corrupted files deep within the thousands of numbers and matrices. As soon as his consciousness touches it, it bursts into action, spiralling through the network of wires and hitting Thomas like a ton of steel. He reels back, hands flying to the back of his helmet and tearing out the only thing connecting them.

“Thomas?” Guy says quickly, one hand reaching out toward him.

“It’s a virus.”

Guy displays a frowning face, but the pixels shift back and forth. Whatever the virus is, it seems Thomas had activated it’s full potential and it had infected his own being as well.

“Our malware should be able to dispose of it,” Guy-man says emotionlessly. “Though it may take time.”

Thomas looks at him blankly. “It’s erasing memory files, I don’t know how to stop it.” He’s frozen in place, lost in the war going on with in himself

Guy-Man can’t stop the panicked exclamation point that blinks on his helmet, even as he scrambles to reconnect all the wiring so he can encrypt the things he couldn’t function without. He shoves aside all traces of the virus away from the memory cortex and backup RAM cards, which seems to be the main thing being attacked by this odd virus. He can tell some things have already been purged from Thomas’ system and he can only be optimistic that nothing vital has been lost.

After he has protected everything he can think of, he rewires himself back into the malware program and adds his own efforts into it.

Thomas has gone into a sort of sleep mode, slumping against Guy’s shoulder unresponsively.

“Thomas,” Guy says, shaking his shoulders slightly. He usually responds to touch, but nothing is happening. He shakes him again, and calls his name louder.

His visor lights up, indicating that he’s rebooted, and Guy turns the frown into an elated smile. Thomas sits upright, turning stiffly to face him.

Red circles look up at him with disinterest. “May I request your factory number and affiliation?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the feedback!! <3 heres the second half, i hope you enjoy!

Part II of II

 

If it were possible to feel dread, this would be what it felt like. Guy stares at Thomas, unable to process this sudden change.

“You know who I am, Thomas,” Guy says, accompanied by a ‘...’ on his display.

“My name is not Thomas. I only have an identification code known as-.”

“Shutup.” Guy says brusquely. The other bot takes this as a direct command and promptly stops talking. It makes Guy feel a bit hollow. Normally Thomas would say something sarcastic, or call him out on being a dickhead, but now he’s just sitting there complacently without so much as a protest.

“You’ve got a virus that tried to wipe your memory,” Guy explains, already shuffling through Thomas’ memory data. Not everything has been deleted, but obviously his experiences with Guy-Man have been disrupted. Everything seems to have reset in an attempt to be rid of the nasty virus.

“I’m operating on all factory settings.”

Guy says nothing, trying to ignore the voice that is Thomas’, yet at the same time isn’t him.

“I detect several vital files missing from m-”

“Mon dieu, I know, Thomas. Shutup, I’m trying to recover them.”

The silver robot stays silent this time.

For almost an hour the two sit in silence. Guy manages to dredge up the most important things he needs first, but Thomas still has no idea who Guy-Man is, or how they’re connected.“We’ve always been together,” Guy tells him.

Thomas doesn’t reply. He’s seemed to learn that he’ll just be told to shut up, or sworn at scornfully in french. Some of his languages have been tampered with too.

It’s the language that seems to have sparked something in Thomas.

“What is the definition of ‘love’?” He asks curiously.

Guy is still fiddling with wires and connectors, and his reply is sparse at best. “It’s emotion.” After he has finished what that he sits back, still sifting through programming and saved files, trying desperately to find some trace back to those that had been forcefully removed. “It might have been one of the definitions deleted by the-”

“No. It’s still there.” Thomas informs him blandly. “But it cannot possibly be correct.”

A question mark blinks on Guy’s visor. It takes him only a moment to locate the information in question.

He compares it to what he has himself, and it’s word for word exactly the same.

“That’s correct.”

Thomas gives him another blank stare. It’s so unlike him that Guy wants to get away from that hollow stare. He doesn’t have eyes, not like a human anyway, but he can still feel his gaze burning a hole through his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Why not?” Guy asks irritably.

“According to this, it would imply that I am in ‘love’ with you.”

Now it’s Guy-Man’s turn to stare uncomprehendingly. “What?”

Thomas merely repeats what he knows from what’s in his mind. “Love; an intense feeling of deep affection, to feel a deep romantic or sexual attachment to someone, a great interest or pleasure in something.”

Guy-Man doesn’t know what to say now. Thomas is waiting silently for some sort of reply, but he has none ready. He certainly hadn’t been expecting him to voice any of these ‘emotions’ both of them had become aware of over the past years. And most definitely not under these circumstances.

“We’re are not human, how do we ‘feel’? How could I possibly ‘love’ you when I currently have no memory of your existence?”

Guy considers this carefully before answering. “I’ve been questioning the definition for nearly four years but I have yet to find a reasonable answer behind what I wonder.” He starts making his way down to the very basic coding, an idea sparked by his most recent ideas behind love.

“I like to think love is like an irrational number. Take Pi for example. It’s an enormous number, that never ends and has never repeated a sequence or shown a pattern. Love is never-ending and unpredictable. Pi is an irrational number, but considered a mathematical constant.”

“You suggest that you are my unpredictable constant?”

“If you’d be so kind as to have me.”

Thomas seems to accept this answer, and for two more hours neither talks. Guy almost feels like he’s embarrassed about what has transpired, and hopes that when he finally does get ahold of Thomas’ memories that the last few hours will be overwritten.

Guy has managed to find a way to get the memories back, which is more than he could ever dream of asking for. He had gone all the back to the basic coding, found, and reassembled all the broken down data that lingered like dust. After he had reintroduced the memory of their first meeting, all of the other shattered and infected files had been highlighted to the forefront of his mind, where Guy could easily piece them back together.

He has to shut Thomas down at least momentarily for this; they both need a good night of recharging however, so he doesn’t bother to reboot him. Instead, he snuggles on the bed beside him, hoping that when he reboots in exactly eight hours that Thomas will be back with everything intact.

*(*)*

Approximately 7.45 hours later, Thomas has reawakened, well charged.

Guy is lying beside him, exuding a slightly elevated temperature and looking as exhausted as a robot can look. But when Thomas checks for any signs of the virus he finds nothing.

A fuzzy recollection of the night before comes to mind. Fragments of conversations he doesn’t quite remember participating in come floating back to him, but he doesn’t give them much thought.

His love for this other robot has grown even more since last night, and if love itself weren’t supposedly impossible Thomas might have some idea of how to react. Currently he isn’t so sure what to think. He’s almost terrified to know what Guy-Man would think of the whole dilemma. Thomas merely lies down again, deciding to enjoy the moment whilst he can.

He goes over the definition of love in his head one more time, expecting it to be just the way he left.

Instead, he finds not written code, but a sound bit of a familiar voice.

“I like to think love is like an irrational number. Take Pi for example. It’s an enormous number, that never ends and has never repeated a sequence or shown a pattern. Love is never-ending and unpredictable. Pi is an irrational number, but considered a mathematical constant.”

“You suggest that you are my unpredictable constant?”

“If you’d be so kind as to have me.”


End file.
